“Ah, I can’t help you,” Millie returned.
“What is it you want?”
“To be what I am not—what I never shall be.”
They were at the door. Anne ran up-stairs, Millie dropped her defensive armour with a sigh. She had somehow expected, and dreaded, that when Anne spoke of their leaving, she would allude to Wareham. Now that she had not done so, she was disappointed.
Wareham was caught by Hugh Forbes as he went out of the saal.
“Come for a turn, old fellow,” he besought. “There are a hundred things I want to say to you.”
“Hadn’t you better go after Miss Dalrymple?” said Wareham sharply.
“She won’t let me. Says she’s had enough of me for to-day.”
Hugh laughed, and Wareham hesitated. Self-flattery murmured that possibly she had intended this half-hour for him, and the thought fell sweet as honey drops. But away from her charm, her beauty, conscience was not to be beguiled. Avaunt, tempter! Step forth, honour! Dull paths are safest, and the dullest of all dull paths appeared this walk with Hugh, Anne left behind in a balcony overlooking shining waters.
They were out, with Hugh anxiously asking why he must go to-morrow?